The grand halls of the Volturi palace were quieter than usual, the faint hum of activity muted in the early morning light. Aro sat at the head of a long marble table, his fingers steepled as he watched his daughter with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Isabella was perched on a chair far too large for her, her tiny legs swinging as Gianna carefully laid out an array of dishes before her.

At three years old, Isabella was a force of nature—a curious, headstrong child who had a knack for charming even the most stoic members of the Volturi. Aro had discovered, much to his surprise, that his daughter had very specific preferences when it came to food. She wrinkled her nose at blood and flatly refused it most days, save for the occasional sip of donated blood Gianna prepared for her. Human food, however, fascinated her.

Gianna, ever the devoted helper, had taken it upon herself to introduce Isabella to new recipes. "This is risotto alla Milanese," she explained as she placed a golden plate before the child. "It's a classic Italian dish."

Isabella's eyes lit up, her brown gaze sparkling as she leaned forward to inspect the food. "Why is it yellow?" she asked, her small fingers pointing at the saffron-infused rice.

"It's the spice that makes it that color," Gianna replied with a smile.

Aro, watching from his seat, leaned back slightly. He couldn't help but marvel at how human she seemed in these moments—her wide-eyed wonder, her endless questions. "Do you like it, Isabella?" he asked, his tone unusually soft.

Isabella nodded emphatically after taking a bite. "It's so good!" she declared, her voice ringing out like a bell. "Why don't you eat this, Daddy? You just drink red stuff."

Aro chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "We're different, my darling. You know that."

This sparked another barrage of questions. "Why don't I sparkle like you and Mommy? And why are my eyes brown and not red like Uncle Caius?"

Sulpicia, entering the room with an elegant stride, smiled as she joined them. "Your eyes are special because they are yours," she explained, bending down to kiss Isabella on the forehead. "And you don't sparkle because you're only part vampire. You're unique, my love."

Isabella seemed to accept this explanation for now, though her brow furrowed in concentration as she continued eating.

Later that gloomy day, Aro decided to take Isabella outside the palace walls. He had made a firm decision early on that his daughter would not grow up feeling trapped. The world outside was vast and filled with wonders, and he wanted her to experience it. With Gianna and two guards in tow, they wandered through a quiet village, Isabella's small hand tucked into Aro's.

She squealed with delight at the sight of a street performer juggling flaming torches. "Daddy, look!" she cried, pointing enthusiastically.

Aro couldn't help but smile at her joy, though he cast a wary glance at the guards to ensure they remained vigilant. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it!" Isabella replied, her face glowing with excitement.

By the time they returned to the palace, Isabella was brimming with stories. She darted through the halls, her little feet echoing against the stone as she made her way to Marcus and Caius, who were seated in one of the grand meeting rooms.

"Uncle Marcus! Uncle Caius!" she called out, her voice bright and eager.

Marcus looked up, his usually somber expression softening as she ran to him. "What is it, little one?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a rare warmth.

Isabella clambered onto Marcus's lap, her small hands pressing against his as she tilted her head and closed her eyes in concentration. A moment later, Marcus gasped softly, his usually placid expression flickering with surprise. Images flooded his mind—bright and vivid like a dream brought to life.

He saw a street performer tossing flaming torches high into the air, the fire reflecting in Isabella's wide, awe-filled eyes. Then came the sweet memory of her holding a powdered pastry in her tiny hands, the joy on her face unmistakable as she took a bite and smiled up at Aro.

Marcus blinked, his lips curving into a faint smile as the vision faded. "You had quite the day, little one," he murmured, his voice touched with rare warmth.

Isabella beamed, her hands clapping together. She turned toward Caius, her brown eyes bright with expectation. "Your turn, Uncle Caius!" she declared, reaching out to touch his arm.

Caius raised a hand to stop her, his brow furrowed. "There's no need for that," he said sharply. "Fire juggling and pastries hardly warrant such theatrics."

Isabella frowned, her tiny hand pausing mid-air. Her pout deepened, and with a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're so mean, Uncle Caius," she said with indignation, her voice trembling with frustration.

Marcus chuckled softly, his hand gently smoothing her curls. "Pay no mind to him, Isabella. He's always been this way."

"I am not grumpy," Caius snapped, his tone as cold and cutting as ever, though his gaze betrayed a flicker of discomfort under Isabella's fiery glare.

"You are!" Isabella insisted, pointing at him with all the authority her tiny frame could muster. "You're Mean C! That's your name now!"

Caius's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a tight line. But as Isabella continued to glare at him with her fierce, childlike determination, a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He exhaled sharply, his scowl softening just slightly.

"Mean C, is it?" he said dryly, his tone laced with reluctant amusement. "Very well, little one. But only you may call me that."

Isabella's face lit up with triumph, her earlier irritation forgotten as she turned back to Marcus. "See? He is grumpy!"

Marcus laughed, a rare sound that echoed warmly through the room. "Perhaps you're right, little one. But it seems you're the only one who can make him smile."

Caius muttered something under his breath, but as Isabella climbed off Marcus's lap to twirl around the room, the faintest trace of a smile remained on his face.

Later that evening, the grand library of the Volturi palace became Isabella's playground. Rows of ancient tomes towered over her, their leather bindings glistening in the candlelight. Aro had brought her there to read, though she spent more time wandering between the shelves, her tiny fingers tracing the spines of books older than most countries.

"Uncle Marcus, what's this one about?" Isabella asked, holding up a hefty tome that seemed almost as big as she was.

Marcus glanced up from his chair near the fireplace, his serene gaze settling on her. "That, little one, is a history of the Etruscans. A fascinating people."

Isabella's eyes widened. "Did you know them?"

Marcus smiled faintly. "A very long time ago."

"Did they like pastries?" she asked innocently, tilting her head.

Marcus chuckled, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room. "I imagine they did, though I can't say for certain."

Caius entered the library then, his usual brisk stride slowing as he noticed Isabella perched on the floor with an open book in her lap. "Should she be allowed to handle such delicate texts?" he asked, his tone laced with disapproval.

Isabella, undeterred, looked up at him with a mischievous grin. "Uncle Caius, do you like pastries?"

Caius's expression froze, clearly unprepared for the question. "No," he said flatly.

"Why not?" Isabella pressed, climbing to her feet and padding over to him. "Everyone likes pastries."

"They're… unnecessary," Caius replied, his tone stiff.

Isabella pouted. "You're no fun." Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she tugged on his cloak. "Come sit with me! I'll read to you."

Marcus stifled a laugh as Caius looked as though he'd rather face a horde of newborn vampires than comply. "I don't have time for—"

"Please?" Isabella's wide brown eyes stared up at him, her small hand tugging insistently.

Caius let out a long-suffering sigh and allowed himself to be led to a chair. Isabella climbed onto his lap without hesitation, holding up the book she'd chosen. "This one's about… um…" She squinted at the title. "E-tru-suh-cans. Uncle Marcus said they're fascinating!"

Caius gave Marcus a pointed glare, but the elder brother only smirked. "Do enlighten her, Caius. You were alive during their time, after all."

Isabella giggled. "You're super old, Uncle Caius."

Caius groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I suppose I am. But if we're going to read, let's at least choose something more… age-appropriate."

A few nights later, in the throne room, Isabella managed to find herself in the center of an impromptu game. Aro had summoned a group of guards for a meeting, but Isabella quickly stole the show.

"Catch me if you can!" she squealed, darting between the towering vampires with surprising agility.

Felix and Demetri exchanged amused glances before half-heartedly chasing her, their predatory grace deliberately dulled to keep the game fair.

Isabella laughed, her infectious joy echoing through the room as she dodged their outstretched hands. She ran straight to Caius, hiding behind his leg. "Save me, Uncle Caius!"

Caius scowled down at her. "This is hardly the place for games, child."

But Isabella simply grinned up at him. "You'll protect me, right?"

Felix stopped in his tracks, raising his hands in mock surrender. "We wouldn't dare cross Lord Caius," he said, his tone teasing.

Caius shot him a withering glare before looking down at Isabella, who was peeking out from behind his cloak. Despite himself, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Run along, little one. This is not a playground."

Isabella, ever fearless, tugged on his cloak. "But you're my favorite hiding spot!"

Aro, watching from his throne, clapped his hands together. "Such spirit! She truly is a wonder."

Caius sighed, but his hand lingered protectively on Isabella's shoulder. "You'll be the end of us all, child," he muttered, though there was no malice in his words.

One crisp evening, Isabella found herself in the garden with Marcus. The usually solemn vampire was seated on a stone bench, watching her as she attempted to chase fireflies.

"Why don't they let me catch them?" Isabella asked, her voice tinged with frustration as another firefly evaded her grasp.

"They're free," Marcus replied, his voice soft. "They aren't meant to be caught."

Isabella stopped, her tiny hands resting on her hips as she looked up at him. "But I just want to hold one for a little bit."

Marcus smiled faintly, extending his hand. To Isabella's amazement, a firefly landed on his palm, its tiny light glowing softly.

"How did you do that?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

"Patience," Marcus said simply, lowering his hand so she could see the firefly up close.

Isabella watched in awe before cupping her hands around it. "Thank you, Uncle Marcus," she said, her voice reverent.

Marcus's gaze softened as he watched her. "You're welcome, little one."

From a nearby balcony, Caius observed the scene, shaking his head. "Patience," he muttered under his breath. "She'll learn none of that from you, Marcus."

Marcus chuckled, his deep voice carrying across the garden. "And she'll learn nothing but scowling from you, brother."

I just wrote this to highlight the dynamics Isabella currently has with the three Volturi brothers. Aro is such a girl dad.